Wordhammer's Mad Ideas
by wordhammer
Summary: Inspirations for Harry Potter stories that probably should be left where they are. Newest: Bob part 3- Of Dementors and Fiendfyre
1. Horcrux fed to Dementor

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. I will never seek or accept money for the circulation of this work.

**Bad Ideas for Harry**

**Chapter one**: Feed a horcrux to a dementor?

Harry clambered up to stand at the cliffside and retrieved the spyglass Luna gave him for his birthday. After a few adjustments, he could see the distant black thorn jutting out of the North Sea that was the island prison of Azkaban.

_This has got to be one of Hermione's least-appealing inspirations, ever. I note that she chose not to tag along on this one... 'I have a cold,' indeed. And there's Ron, all 'Kreacher won't get her soup because of his attitude towards her, mate.' Some friends. Wish they'd just shag and get it done with._

He stowed the spyglass and cast his Patronus. The luminous stag that erupted from his most pleasant memory cantered back and forth on the cliff face, staring hard at the distant rock as well- it knew where its enemy lay in wait.

"Just hang here and be ready."

The wispy creature nodded its head and continued to stalk.

Fairly soon, a shape like a torn flag could be seen tacking its way through the winds towards where Harry stood.

"Guess Fudge wasn't lying. First time for everything."

Within minutes the tattered black shape resolved into a dementor, though it appeared to be twice the size of any Harry had seen before. Harry backed away from the precipice and gave his Patronus a steadying gesture; the avatar of his hope stood behind him but poised, ready to act.

The great dementor glided to a stop a few yards away.

Harry said, "I... I've been told you can understand me."

The spectre seemed to nod.

"O-okay. Well, I'd like to give you a soul to eat. It's perfectly legal, and really doesn't belong here anyway." Harry then placed Slytherin's locket on the rock before him and stepped back a few paces, his Patronus edging backward as well.

The dementor cocked its head to the side, then settled into a crouch above the enchanted pendant, its arms raised like a fighting spider... or perhaps like a food connoisseur being offered a dish both surprising and new. It tilted its head around the jewel, taking its time to choose the right angle of consumption. It then turned its head toward Harry and tapped the locket with a claw.

"Oh, right. Sorry," Harry replied. He then bent forward and said in Parseltongue, "_~Open~_."

The locket unlatched and a silvery black smoke rose from its center, only then the sound of a rushing wind greater that what was already crashing against the cliffs came out of the dementor, and Harry saw the wisps of soul-light being drawn from the center of the locket straight into its mouth.

Harry grinned while retreating to a safe observation, only to lose his enthusiasm with the change in perspective; the stream emanating from the locket seemed awfully thin.

The dementor kept jerking its head upward, pulling at the soul strand this way and that, gripping the ground around it for leverage, but the locket remained tethered to its sucking strand. In frustration, the dementor redoubled his efforts and lifted up off the ground. The locket swung upwards, dangling from its 'chin' by a long thread of silvery soul-matter that stretched more as the dementor thrashed its head around.

"What the Hell's the problem?"

That caught the great dementor's attention and it snapped its face towards Harry, the locket bouncing against its chest like a lump of cheese. A piercing wail emanated from the depths of its tatters, and soon Harry could see maybe a half-dozen more dementors flying towards the escarpment from Azkaban.

"Look, if it's not going to work, I'll just take it back and try something else."

The jewel clattered on the ground, still attached by soul-string to the dementor's face. The creature raised a skeletal hand towards him, clearly insisting on allowing it another try.

The other six dementors approached and took curious looks at the large dementor's situation. After a silent conversation of gestures, they also leaned down to 'Kiss' the locket. Six more tendrils of soul were drawn from the center into the faces of loudly-sucking dementors.

They began a tug-of-war, each trying to suck more of the soul than the others, and thus yanking the locket in the center this way and that. Harry backed further away as their efforts began to resemble wild dogs fighting over a carcass.

After several minutes of this, Harry had had enough. "Alright! Clearly this isn't working. Just let go of the thing and I'll thank you for the effort."

The large dementor slapped the others around until they stopped jerking on their respective soul-spaghetti. With a gesture, they were all commanded to retreat. Each one nodded forward, attempting to spit out their soulstrand, but they remained attached. Their attempts became quite panicked as they pulled with their arms, tried to tangle the strands around stumps and outcroppings, but they all were stuck, like opium addicts super-glued to a hookah.

"Oh, for God's sake!"

The large dementor yanked upward, affronted. He then took a deep breath and a great vortex opened in his face. First one, then another smaller dementor was drawn into its gullet, until it was now twice again as big and the only dementor extant. Along the way, the locket had also been swallowed but it dropped through his tatters to clatter on the rock, a thicker tendril of soul now seeming to hold the great dementor to the ground by its... bowels.

Harry's Patronus nudged him. Turning to look, he saw the great silvery beast shuddering in laughter.

"Yeah, Prongs. I think this is worth sharing in the Pensieve, don't you? Alright, since you can't seem to unstick yourself, it looks like you're coming back to Grimmauld with me." Harry walked up and reached below the struggling dementor, picking up the locket and the dementor along with it.

"Look Prongs; a balloon. Bloody grief."

The annoyed creature howled at him.

"See here, mate. You're the one stuck. If you don't behave, I'll chuck this thing into a volcano. That probably won't destroy it and you'll be stuck there forever. If you get feisty we'll just leave you in an incinerator for a day to give you a taste. Get me?"

The spirit-thief shrank and sagged in defeat.

Harry shook his head and then Disapparated, dementor-balloon in tow. His Patronus remained for several minutes longer, sustained by the joy of its own amusement, until it faded away.


	2. Riddles Reprise

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. I will never seek or accept money for the circulation of this work.

**Mad Ideas for Voldemort: **Riddle's Reprise

Why does Harry always get to try again? A greater power steps in after Voldemort's death to offer him another chance to get it right. Maybe.

[I originally posted this to the darklordpotter-net Plot Bunnies Thread v1; it's still interesting, so I'm sharing it here as well.]

[[[]]]

Tom Riddle stood in the empty way-station between worlds. Unburdened by the corruptions done to his body over a lifetime, he appeared as simply a pale but dark-haired man swathed in a simple black robe. He looked around, evaluating his surroundings until he was resolved to what had happened.

He then grumbled, "How in the name of the nine Hells did I lose?"

A small, black-haired girl dressed as a first-year Hogwarts student approached him as he started to pace about, fuming over his ignominious defeat. "I bet they're just singing his praises right now!"

The girl replied, "Yup, they are. He hates it though. Harry Potter never wanted to fight you, but you made it necessary. So he won."

"Yes, but WHY?"

The little girl shrugged and looked up at him. "Good always triumphs over evil?"

Tom scowled back at the girl, noting without reaction that her eyes were completely black- the one oddity in an otherwise very commonplace-looking person.

"I don't know you but I can tell that you know better. The strong rule the weak. That is all. There is no 'good' or 'evil'; just weaklings with limitations on what they can accomplish because they've been trained to think safely."

"Really? Well, why did you lose, then? Are you weak? Were you weaker than Harry?"

Tom stood in thought for a moment, dismissing his irritation at the girl's innocent-sounding questions to take in his current situation.

"Who are you?"

"Y'know, if the circumstances were reversed I think Harry would have _started_ with that question."

Tom grabbed the girl by the lapels of her work robes and shook her a moment.

"Answer the question, girl, or I'll make you wish for oblivion!"

The girl looked at Tom's hands on her clothing and slowly turned her endless gaze upwards at the angry man.

"Threatening me, when you're dead and I'm the only one talking to you? That's probably clue number one. You assume too much. I could be God, one of His angels, Death, or even the Devil come to strike a deal. Sorry. Now you'll have to work from a disadvantage."

Tom released the girl and stepped back, his brow furrowing in concern.

"I used to be better at this... when did I become so reactive?"

"You lost part of yourself when you shredded your soul in an attempt to outrun death. You've been losing more and more ever since."

Tom's expression became more hurt and he made an imploring look to his short conversationalist.

"I'm... lost and confused. I don't know what's happening or what went wrong. Would you please help me to understand?"

The girl smiled with a squint of delight."That's the Tom you used to be! Seductive, wily and willing to work his victim however he needed to, in order to accomplish his goals! You were born to win; not as a bold conqueror but as a puppet-master. You became drunk with power over your early victories. If you had kept more disciplined you might have remade the world as you wished. So, what did you want?"

"What?"

"What was the point? What did you want? You worked for decades accumulating knowledge and power. What was the end goal?"

"I didn't want to die. I didn't want to feel weak or alone anymore." Tom suddenly convulsed in what appeared to be self-revulsion. "Arghh! Sanctimonious crap! I WAS born to rule! I should never have let that old fool throw me off my game!"

The girl teased, "The old fool was gone for a year before you died."

Tom stepped back defensively. "Fate stood against me. A prophecy was spoken about my defeat."

"Yeah, I heard that one. 'Lo, and a child is born to a defiant couple. Their child shall rise alone with a power to vanquish the orphan-maker. His gift is mystery, unfathomable to the nemesis that spawned his own undoing. Once recognised, these two shall face off until only one remains. The child comes at the eve of the first harvest.' Something like that? Doesn't mention your defeat- just that this kid would have the means, motive and plenty of opportunities since you wouldn't leave him alone."

"I was not privy to the whole prophecy and what I had heard doesn't match your wording, but that seems to fit the message as I had heard it. So, Harry was destined to have a power I knew not?"

"That's more specific than the source, but obviously that's how it played out."

Tom stepped forward. "What was his power?"

The little girl strolled around the cement platform, and then started walking heel-to-toe as if on a balance beam.

"Um... knowing more about wands, I guess. Or maybe he was empowered with a defense against your favorite attack spell and like many madmen you assumed that it was the tool causing the problem and not the user. Did it not occur to you that hitting Potter with the Killing Curse had already failed you twice? I mean, aren't you supposed to be smart or something?"

"It's the perfect attack. I point, they die. Elegant in it's clean simplicity."

Pretend balance beam walking turned into hopscotch over an invisible diagram.

"So really, the unfathomable secret is that you don't like to get dirty. Even Reducto would have served you better than the Killing Curse."

"Why?"

"Well, it might have hit what it was aimed at, for starters."

"I don't like you."

The girl stopped hopping about to face Tom, her hands at her hips.

"Quelle suprise! You don't like anyone. That's why no one you knew had the balls to tell you how many mistakes you were making. You studied Machiavelli and Sun Tzu, but still you tortured your own troops when things didn't work out right. They all knew you had become a petulant whining brat, but with your nuclear fists flailing around, none of them could put you over their knee to spank the stupid away."

"Either you're here to tease me or you have an offer to make. Which is it?"

"Both. I'm here to help you sort yourself before we go back and give it another run through. I plan to enjoy myself, as you're so full of fun. Or rather, you will be fun for me because I can talk to you without you ever being able to shut me up or hurt me. I'm your best assistant and worst nightmare: a girl that won't shut up, telling you what you're doing wrong. You're finally getting married!"

"What shall I call you?"

"Pick a name. It'll define our relationship."

Tom paused in thought before saying, "Slave."

"Ah! Then my name is Mistress Verity. You schmuck. I'm going to give you a second chance to get it right and the first thing you do is try to subjugate me? What a waste. Deal's off. Have fun with your holy reckoning..."

"Wait! Mistress Verity, I apologize."

"Yeah, I bet you do! Next stop- your past."

The girl grabbed him by the hand and they disappeared.

[[[]]]


	3. Dementor in Grimmauld

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. I will never seek or accept money for the circulation of this work.

A Dementor in Grimmauld Place a.k.a. Bad Ideas for Ron

[Brief context explanation: this (along with its predecessor) happens during Deathly Hallows, with the key deviation that the trio were able to shake off Yaxley before Disapparating from the Ministry after capturing the locket from Umbridge. Therefore, Ron wasn't splinched and they weren't forced to abandon their safehouse. It is therefore only a matter of a Karmic rebalance, what happens here. I don't consider it Ron-bashing at all.]

[[[]]]

With a sudden snap, Harry appeared in the hallway of Grimmauld Place, the Dementor trailing from the locket still clutched in his hand. The curtains in front of the portrait of Walburga Black immediately whisked open and the crone within initiated her typical rant, no doubt queued up in the portrait's mind in anticipation of some fool's ill-targeted arrival. This was, after all, the reason the trio usually tried only to Apparate to a point outside the front door.

"Get out of my house! Filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, mudbloods and- AIIEEEEEEEEE!"

The Dementor had turned its head to investigate the irritating noise, bringing its soul-sucking face within inches of the portrait's surface.

Harry shuffled around the floating spectre to take a look at the portrait, but the only evidence of Walburga's presence was the shaking of her wood and velvet chair, caused by the nervous twitching of the witch hiding behind it.

The Dementor turned to him and shrugged.

Harry said, "No, that's fine. A measure of justice, in point of fact."

Hermione and Ron came rushing into the hallway from the library and provided equally unhelpful reactions.

"What was all that- EEEEEEK!"

"Oh, Ronald! Honestly. It's just a... ," and then Hermione looked up to face the full height of the outsized Dementor looming over them. She then fainted, collapsing back into Ron and bringing them both to the floor.

Ron scrabbled back and whinged at Harry, "What'd you bring that here for?"

"Obviously, I thought this place wasn't depressing enough and felt the chill of the grave would be the perfect topper," Harry snarked. "Things didn't go as planned. Are you actually surprised by that?"

Ron sat for a moment, shifting his gaze between the Dementor with its arms crossed and the locket held out in Harry's hand, showing why said Dementor was stuck there.

"I s'pose not. What're you gonna do with 'im then?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have brought it here. Let's wake up Hermione and see what she thinks."

"Good plan. Um... does he... ?"

"What, Ron?"

"What's his name?"

Harry gave Ron a disbelieving look and then looked at the Dementor floating above him. The spectre had moved its hands to what would be his hips if it wasn't just the tapered rags of his cloak-like covering. Harry pulled down on the locket, pulling the Dementor with it. The creature gave out an annoyed shriek that caused Walburga's portrait to whimper.

"Bob," Harry resolved. "We'll call him Bob. Happy?"

The Dementor shrugged and Ron replied, "Bloody ecstatic."

At that point Hermione moaned and then whispered, "Ron, watch your language."

[[[]]]

Hermione and Ron cuddled tightly on the couch opposite Harry. The locket lay on the table between them, with the Dementor suspended above idling swinging about to look around the place.

Hermione chattered out, "O-obviously, I h-hadn't foreseen this. W-what I would surmise is that the d-d-Dementor will be released when we break the horcrux. Hopefully then it-t-t would go on its merry way."

Harry nodded and shivered, and then looked up at the Dementor with a scowl. "Can you not be quite so chilling?"

The Dementor looked down at Harry and opened his mouth. Harry could feel memories of Cedric dying, his mother screaming and Sirius being yanked into the Veil overwhelming his mental/visual field. With a lurch, he chucked the locket far across the room. It dragged the Dementor along with it, pulling at its tatters after a slight delay as if it were attached to a boat anchor. Harry shook his head for a moment and then cast forth Prongs with an irritated, "_Expecto Patronum_, ya bastard! Prongs- just keep it at bay, alright?"

The wispy stag galloped forth, turned back to nod at Harry and then stalked forward to intimidate the now defensive-seeming spectre.

Ron and Hermione loosened their clutch on each other and leaned forward to keep a wary eye on the creature.

Ron then protested, "Hey! How come you don't give Harry grief for his language?"

"It's his house, Ron. Also... I was distracted with a thought. Harry, why was the Dementor not attacking you earlier?"

"I threatened to throw the horcrux into a fire if he didn't behave. I think he knows why he's stuck but doesn't know how to fix it any better than we do. I can sorta sympathise with him."

Hermione interrupted with an enthusiastic thought. "A fire- Harry! One of the sure ways to destroy a horcrux is by using Fiendfyre-"

The Dementor had been mocking Harry's patronus with his claws mimicking antlers around his head. Now, it looked up suddenly, let out a shriek and started moaning.

Harry looked over at it. "I don't think he likes that idea."

Hermione yelled over the moaning, "Perhaps we should discuss this without him eavesdropping. Have you tried to close the locket?"

Harry turned to Hermione and shook his head, partly in shame from not thinking of it. He stood up and walked over next to Prongs. The Dementor seemed to be yanking on his own shroud in wailing protest over the Fiendfyre idea, still.

Harry stepped forward and knelt down. He mumbled, "Sorry about this... _~close~_."

The locket doors folded partway closed but trembled in attempting to cut off the soul-strand trailing up from within. After a moment the strand began reeling back into the horcrux, compressing the Dementor at the aperture as it tried to suck spirit and spectre alike into its enclosure. 'Bob' shrieked wildly in protest.

Ron grimaced and observed, "Reminds me of Disapparating, in a way."

"Yeah, I seem to recall you yelping a lot during practice," Harry agreed.

"Oi!"

The Dementor was clearly panicking as its claws flailed about, catching hold of rug and chair leg alike in an attempt to avert being sucked down to the size of a snitch. Its efforts proved fruitless, and the locket closed up upon his twitching fingers. Frost coated the jewel almost instantly, making it appear more silvery than gold.

Prongs snorted in satisfaction but Harry shook his head. "Bob's going to be _really_ yanked-off the next time we open this."

Harry stepped forward, stopped out of caution, and then stepped forward again, kneeling down to pick up the locket by its chain. The pendant began to jump around, animated to the point of resembling a Mexican jumping-bean. Harry dropped it in surprise, but the locket kept bouncing about.

"Like I said..."

Hermione interjected, "I don't think that's what's happening, Harry. The Dementor is probably fighting within the locket, with the horcrux itself."

Ron added, "Well sure! I mean, who'd want to share a room with You-Know-Who?"

Harry winced and then grabbed up the locket again. "I suppose it's more portable this way, but we can forget about sneaking anywhere with it."

Ron shivered and then mused, "Y'know, that would make a really effective ice box chiller."

Harry jerked back and said, "Ron, what?"

"I'm not saying we should make a bunch of horcruxes, trap dementors in 'em and make it a business. I'm just... thinking out loud. What?"

Hermione gave him a pained look. "Where do the twins get it, and why did it miss you?"

"Hey now- that's just unkind! If you like 'em so much, why didn't you date one of 'em?"

Hermione shrugged. "Hope?"

"With a Dementor around, I can see why that might be dwindling," Harry mumbled.

[[[]]]

Ron pulled Harry aside after dinner. "Hey mate. I was thinking. Could you teach me how to say 'close' in Parseltongue? That way, if Bob ever got out of control you wouldn't be the only one who could do anything about it."

Harry nodded in earnest agreement. "Good idea. We should teach Hermione as well."

"Sure, sure, but I really think I've got a knack for this. Listen; _~gardener~_. No wait, that didn't sound right. Umm... _~open~_."

Ron's pronunciation was a bit rough, but it got the point across. "Oh hey- that's brilliant! You remembered that from all the way back in the Chamber?"

"No, you talk in your sleep."

"I... I do? What do I say?"

"How should I know? 'Open' is the only thing I recognized."

"Oh. Well, 'close' is... _~close~_."

"_~Fruitbat~_."

"No, _~close~_."

"_~Nest raiders~._"

"One more try- _~close~_."

"_~Close & wriggle seductively~_."

Harry clapped Ron on the back while suppressing a cackle. "Ahh... yeah. That'll work."

[[[]]]

It had required a bit of stealth, but Ron had snuck past the vicious thing to lay his trap. Ron settled into the broom closet and lay in wait. He'd left the door open a crack to properly monitor the situation.

Kreacher shambled into the kitchen, grumbling as always. The elf stopped and looked around in several directions, and then slunk up to his particular cupboard near the furnace. With a final cautious review, he knelt down and pulled out his prized jewel.

"Kreacher did what Master Regulus wanted, even if not in the way or time as he wanted. Kreacher is a good elf..."

Ron leaned out and whispered, "_~open~._"

The locket in Kreacher's hand popped open and out burst a mixture of tortured soul fragment and riotously angry Dementor. The elf snapped back, clutched at his own chest and dropped to the floor.

Ron said, "Aw cripes!" and jumped out to crouch next to the locket. He tried to incant the right phrase, but what came out wasn't closing the locket. He slobbered out the phrase louder and louder.

The Dementor had at first shrieked and raged, causing all sorts of housewares to be thrown around the kitchen, but then it twisted in place and shot forward to hover over the House-elf. It appeared to be clutching at something in the air above its still body, until 'Bob' had caught whatever it could see, that Ron could not. A dull blue light appeared to sink past the Dementor's mouth and down into the black depths of its tattered cloak.

Harry burst into the kitchen. "Are you making it with a naga or something? I keep hearing you screaming about 'wriggling' and-"

'Bob' saw Harry and threw his arms over his head, retreating to the far corner of the room, at least as far as his soul-tendril would allow. Harry looked back to where he came from to see Ron crouched behind the table and Kreacher laid out flat on the floor, staring up at nothing. Plates and cups lay shattered everywhere.

Hermione followed Harry in, saw the carnage and the very obviously dead House-elf and promptly went ballistic.

"Ronald Weasley what in all of God's creation possessed you to- what did you DO?"

"It was just a prank on the mean old codger. I didn't think it'd kill him. 'Sides- he betrayed Sirius; this is just desserts, right?"

Hermione shrieked in frustration and stormed forward to make sure her point was made. "He was turning around! We were making progress!" She punctuated the next few words with a punch to Ron's shoulder; "He! Was! Getting! Better!" She redoubled the force of her punches and added, "How? Could? You?"

"Ow, ow, OW!" Ron protested, "It seemed funny when I thought of it. We all needed a pick-me-up, the way things have been going."

Hermione shook her head and then left, holding back tears with one hand while pulling at her hair with the other.

Bob reached forward and patted Ron on the head and then returned to the locket like a genie to its lamp.

Harry whispered, '_~close~_' to secure the locket and then cast a Warming charm to help Ron fight off an acute case of brain-freeze.

Ron clutched at his temples and sighed in relief. "Thanks for that."

Harry stepped over and gave Ron a brotherly one-armed hug. "That was... really stupid."

"Really stupid," he agreed.

"Completely mental."

"Worse than Luna on her worst day."

"And you're going to insult another of our female friends now?"

Ron winced. "I think the pressure's getting to me."

Harry and Ron nodded in tandem while staring at the dead House-elf on the floor.

Harry sighed and clapped Ron on the shoulder one more time. "But if he hadn't have died, I would have thought it was funny, too."

"Thanks, mate."

"I think you've lost Hermione for good, though."

"Yeah." Ron sulked for a minute before voicing an idea. "Do you think if I Obliviated her-?"

Harry's irritated look stopped him even before he countered with, "Slugs, Ron. Remember the slugs? And your dad's car? Also, the chocolate cauldrons? In fact, if you're not pelted by birds to wake you tomorrow, I'm going to do a prior incantato on your wand to make sure you DIDN'T Obliviate her."

Ron frowned. "Is there anything she'll accept me back for, d'you think?"

Harry could only shake his head. "Save her life and _maybe _she'll let you date _other_ girls. As it stands, I'm worried that she's gone hunting in the Black library for something permanent and highly uncomfortable to do to you."

"Bloody Hell!"

"Yeah- like that."

[[[]]]

When Ron got back to his room, he found a veritable mountain of chocolate and other candy sitting on his bed. The attached note said. 'Kreacher was a very bad elf and Dobby is very pleazed with Mr. Wheezy. Ask for Dobby when you are needing more sweetses.'

Ron mumbled, "There's a part of me that's very confused. One the one hand, I've lost Hermione. On the other... well, things weren't exactly moving forward with her and there's always memories of Lavender, but there hasn't been a lot of chocolate lately. Some kind of _ethical_ thing is happening, I'm sure of it."

Dobby appeared with a pop. "Does Mr. Wheezy need some milk to go with his treats?"

"Yes. Yes, I would like some milk."

Dobby disappeared and Ron added, "... which is a really strange way to herald the start of my journey to Purgatory."

[[[]]]

**Omake**:

Ron opened a Chocolate Frog and bit down on the animated sweet while it squirmed in his mouth. He flipped the Famous Wizard card around and bit down so hard that the frog legs dropped down his chin onto his lap. He forced the chocolate down his throat and whinged, "You gotta be kidding me. They've already made one for _Krum_?"

After a moment, he added, "I wonder if it's rare?"

[Other options for the card: Hermione; Umbridge; Snape; Percy; Ginny; the Twins; Lucius; Draco; Lockhart; Mr. Black (see Make A Wish for reference) and Bob the Dementor-balloon]


	4. Harry Tonks Potter

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. I will never seek or accept money for the circulation of this work.

Harsh Idea for Tonks- this is probably the most likely piece I would convert to a full-on story. For those unfamiliar with my other work... well, this isn't "Wordhammer's Collection of Slapstick", y'know? Warning- angst ahead.

**Harry (Tonks) Potter**

**Rated**: **T** for mention of sex and use of foul language.

**Genre**: for this prologue, it would be **Tragedy**. The regular story would probably be **Suspense**

**Summary**: The difference between a weapon and a hero is really a matter of choice. Following an intense summer together before Harry's sixth year, Tonks has to make that choice. _Like Edith Wilson..._

[[[]]]

Harry stood in front of Tonks, looking a little lost. She had shrunk his trunk down to carry it in his jacket pocket and Hedwig had been sent on to rendezvous with him at school. Their departure point had been masked from muggle observation. Harry had his portkey (not ironically, it was a skeleton key) in his other pocket. All that was left to do was to say goodbye to each other.

"Tonks, you have been... "

"Aw, don't say it Harry," she said while ruffling his already gravity- and comb-defying hair. "I know how you feel; I've been in your head more than you have these past months."

Harry blushed and smiled. Tonks loved it when he smiled. Blushing was even better.

He took her hand down from stroking his temple and held it in both of his. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I need to say it though. You have been a life-saver. I was so... lost after Sirius... died-"

Tonks spoke sternly to correct him, "Sirius was killed, Harry. Never forget that." She had taken her hand back to shake a finger at him.

Harry shuffled on his feet a bit and he held his hands out from his sides slightly, as if not quite resolved on what to do with them. "Right. That's not what I wanted to say though. I needed help and I needed tutoring but more than anything I needed... you. There's no way I would have known it before we had this summer together, but you're my salvation. I may not be ready to beat him, but I'm ready to figure out how, and make it happen. I _will_ find a way."

She couldn't help herself; she licked her lips, slid her hands down her sides and across her hips and then wriggled like a pole dancer. "Ooh! You make me all shhteamy when you talk like that!"

Harry grinned and stepped forward, kissing Tonks the best way she'd taught him. She really shouldn't take all the credit for it though- she'd taught Charlie Weasley to kiss that way too, but only Harry made her knees weak...

Harry caught her around the waist as she stumbled into him and they ended up falling onto the grass in a heap of laughter and teasing touches.

A quiet 'chirp-chirp' emanated from her wand and Tonks slapped Harry's hip to encourage him to get off of her. "Let's get a move on then, lover! You have to get to the Express. Adventure awaits!"

Harry clambered up and then aided Tonks back to standing. He stepped backward again but stopped short, as if he had bumped into something.

"Umm... Tonks?"

The Auror looked up from brushing the grass clippings off her bum to see Harry's face draw very pale, almost green. "What's the matter, Harry?"

Time slowed to a crawl. Tonks saw a red line draw across Harry's neck, and then his whole head just fell backwards, rolling down his back to hit the sidewalk with a 'splut'. Blood spilled out over his collapsing body in a pulsing fountain powered by his last heartbeats. Her panicked review of his body picked up a sheen of metal being pulled back behind him and her wand jumped into her hand, erupting in curses at the unseen attacker.

Within seconds, she had transformed a goblin beneath an invisibility cloak into a bloody tangle of half-visible fabric mixed with blood, flesh and shattered bones.

But there was Harry. And Harry's head.

Tonks cried out a wail and sank to her knees. It was only after her lungs couldn't force any more pain through her throat that she collected the wherewithal to send messenger patronuses to Shack and Dumbledore. Both were charmed to recount the same warning:

_'Harry was attacked. It's all fucked up.'_

[[[]]]

Tonks couldn't remember exactly how, but Dumbledore had collected her, Harry's remains, the goblin's remains and every drop of blood spilled in the boulevard of Privet Drive and brought it all to Grimmauld Place. They had been joined in the kitchen there by her boss, Kingsley Shacklebolt and her mentor, Alastor Moody. She was now surrounded by the most intimidating men in her life.

Once the explanations had been made (including an embarrassing admission as to the depth of her involvement with Harry), Moody kicked off her chastisement; "Merlin's saggy ballsack, Tonks! How could you have done exactly what you were told not to do! 'Protect him, but no contact'- wasn't that what I told you? Everything depended on Potter's survival, and you've literally FUCKED IT AWAY!"

Through a voice that wouldn't steady out despite her great wishes otherwise, she warbled, "I was helping him to survive! I'd seen what special training he'd had so far- _none_. Without me, he wouldn't have been able to beat Lucius Malfoy, much less Bellatrix or the Dark Lord. I trained him to defend himself, defend his mind and how to protect others. He was as good as an Auror! Better than me, even."

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. "It was an admirable effort, Nymphadora, but it was all undone when you took him to your bed."

She mumbled, "Actually it was his bed. Not that I'd normally call that a 'bed'. We mostly ended up on the floor."

Shack's deep voice cut through to her spine. "Now is not the time for your levity, Auror Tonks. Your relationship compromised your ability to protect your subject, and the boy _died_ from that inattention."

She bowed her head and started crying again. It didn't matter to them, how much he'd meant to her. Their concern was for their lost weapon. Harry'd had the right of it after all- it just came to him too late to matter in his choices.

The men began arguing amongst themselves, dismissing Tonks to sit in her chair with her grief. She thought back through all of her efforts since rescuing Harry from his isolation at the Dursley's. It had been a real challenge, drawing him out of his shell, but once he had opened up to her, she discovered a man of much passion, great hope and an iron will, when it mattered. She had fallen in love with a man who appeared to be a boy but thought and acted like a hero. Her hero.

That was it, then. She had lost her hero, as had everyone else that was depending on him. With Harry gone, the wizarding world might as well shrivel up and concede control to the Dark Lord right now.

Paying slight attention to the barking of the old men, she realized that they had reached the same conclusion. She saw only one solution, and it gave her a pang of fear to even consider it, but it was the right thing to do. What he would do, if he could.

"I'll be him," she said.

Albus raised a hand to quiet the others. "What was that, Miss Tonks?"

"I'll take over for Harry. I'll be him. No one else could do this- Polyjuice is well known to both sides, and aside from that, I'm the only one who knows him well enough to pull it off."

The headmaster gave her a leading look. "I doubt that _anyone_ could make that claim, Miss Tonks."

"I've been in his head. I taught him Occlumency, the long way."

Mad-eye scoffed, "In two months? Impossible."

"Not if you're dedicated, and the other person trusts you completely. I earned his trust, and he shared his life with me. I got eight weeks of Harry Potter boot camp. I can guarantee that no one on this Earth knows him anywhere near as... intimately, as me."

Albus Dumbledore's eyes twinkled just slightly in the torchlight. "I think, in that case, we may have a chance. We can explain Harry's absence from the Express- it wouldn't be the first time his journey to the school was fraught with difficulty. Are you certain of this, Miss Tonks? You won't be able to stop once you start, or the entire subterfuge will assuredly blow up in our faces. Are you ready to _become_ Harry Potter?"

Tonks rubbed her tears from her eyes and gave them all a wry smile. "I think it's great how you're calling me 'Miss Tonks' now, sir. I think it means that you actually believe I can do this. But from now on," Tonks paused and shifted form to match the man she had lost, "... I'm Harry. I need to change clothes."

Harry-Tonks stood up from the table and slid past the men staring at him. He strode out of the room with as much confidence as he could muster and then tromped up the stairs to kype some of Sirius' old clothes. It would honor them both.

Also, it would fit better than the thong, tights and bra beneath his robes that were currently pulling at tender parts in very uncomfortable ways.

[[[]]]

Kingsley looked at the other two men and grumbled, "I think her first assessment was more accurate. This is all fucked up."

Dumbledore sat back and drew quiet, lost in thought.

Moody gave the headmaster a doubtful look and then turned back to Kingsley. "You may be right, but this is the best option, given how completely Tonks has upturned our cauldrons!"

Albus smiled and gave them a look of unexpected optimism. "I think our situation may be less precarious than I had first assumed."

"Are ye mad, Albus? The Dark Lord is returned, his agents are infecting the Ministry, we've just uncovered a plot by the goblins to take a hand in this conflict, your own life is hanging by a thread... ," at this, Moody gestured at the Headmaster's blackened right hand, "...and the keystone of our strategy to take down the Dark Lord himself was just murdered. Now, the stability of British Wizarding society rests on the ability of a metamorph to keep her focus, from now until the end of the war. In my experience, Tonks barely can remember what she had for supper by the time breakfast is served. What makes you think things 'aren't so bad'?"

Albus looked up at the ceiling and replied, "With Harry's death, this house's ownership should be in question, with the most-likely inheritor being either Bellatrix Lestrange or Draco Malfoy, depending upon how the Black family traces their line of succession. Yet the Fidelius Charm, which depends upon the owner to be in on the secret and still having trust in the Secret Keeper, is still functioning perfectly. Curious. Tell me something, Alastor."

"What?"

"Do you remember what you had for supper last night?"

The wizened and mutilated Auror took several moments in thought before replying, "Stew. With cornbread."

The warlock smiled and assured his friend, "It took you time because it was an unimportant detail. Miss Tonks has experienced a sea change, Alastor. Her priorities have been dashed to the rocks and reassembled. I think she'll do fine, as our Harry."

"You trust Snape," Kingsley countered.

Albus raised his dessicated hand and nodded, "Yes, I do."

[[[]]]


	5. Not Uncle Mad-Eye

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. I will never seek or accept money for the circulation of this work.

**A mad Mad-Eye idea**

This was a piece written in reply to a challenge prompt from a 'Thank God You're Here' thread at darklordpotterDOTnet.

The prompted line: "Ah, Mr. Moody. In accordance with the wishes of the Last Will and Testament of Mr. and Mrs. James Potter you have been granted guardianship of their son."

Usually a responder will run with the inspiration to kick off a whole story idea or maybe just a good comedy scene. I decided to try making it canon-compatible.

Rated: PG

Genre: General

* * *

><p><strong>[[[]]]<strong>

_Bloody Healers._

Alastor Moody was beyond impatient. Here he was, bed-ridden, at a time when many of the Dark Lord's vermin were running for their bolt-holes. It was a cold comfort that he and his squad had captured the Lestranges at Longbottom Manor, but at least one of their accomplices escaped, and now he was stuck here, one leg (and one temper) short.

The sound of his rule-addicted professional coddler making her hourly check on him didn't improve this.

"Still awake, Mr. Moody? I thought you were trying to heal faster. A nap can be good for that."

"That's _Senior Auror_ Moody, ya bustling harpy. When can I get a new leg?"

"Oh, I have no notion. It may be weeks, as the wizard known to make prostestees-"

"ProsTHETics!"

"... has been missing for a while. He was last seen drinking to the health of the Boy-Who-Lived, by the flagon-full."

"Whose health?"

"Why, Harry Potter's, of course!"

"Is that James' son?"

"The very one! They say that his parents are both dead, but that Harry fought off the Dark Lord and even killed him."

"Well 'they' are idiots. What manner of infant is capable of fighting off a cranky crup, much less the Dark Lord?"

A rat-nosed man in fine tweed robes appeared in the doorway and replied, "What manner indeed? That will be a suitable quest to fulfill, now that your days as an Auror are done."

"Oh, spit me on a pyre and be done with it," Alastor moaned. "What're you doin' here, Mulready? I'm not done as an Auror by a long shot, and ye've nothing to pin me with, these days. Barty's Aurors can nigh on murder the Minister's daughter so long as they can feign a believable suspicion to explain it."

"I'm here as executor of a will. Given your usual traveling habits, I felt it was my best opportunity to catch you here. Someplace publicly accessible, and with plenty of witnesses."

"Can't you just send me post like normal solicitors?"

"Ah, Mr. Moody. The circumstances in this case require a bit more of a direct hand. You see, in accordance with the wishes of the Last Will and Testament of Mr. and Mrs. James Potter you have been granted guardianship of their son."

Alastor coughed and glared at the slimy little rat-man. "Either you or James Potter has a very twisted and poor sense of humour."

"You know well enough that I lack a sense of humour as you define it, and I would never be heard speaking ill of the dead, especially when they are so well-regarded. Whether you believe it or not, you have been identified as the next appropriate guardian, now that the Longbottoms have been rendered insensate-"

"You'll speak of them with respect, as well!"

"I don't disparage them in the least, Mr. Moody. Whatever their accolades, they are incapable of tending to their own needs, much less those of a orphan boy. Surely even you must understand that."

"Why're _you_ on this task, Mulready?"

"For the simple joy of seeing you squirm with a moral dilemma. You are the legal guardian for a baby, one who will no doubt be regarded as the most famous wizard in the world. I'm sure the press will be very interested in _everything_ you choose to do to guide him into adulthood. The press will surround your house, grocers will sell details of your purchases, and I should think the Ministry would want to oversee the little sprout as he encounters the world, from the safety of your embrace."

"I'll not do it!"

"I have heard mention that Minister Bagnold is interested in holding a photo session wherein little Harry will be handed, by her, into the arms of his caring guardian. By the way- how's the leg?"

Alastor's face contorted into several gargoylish expressions. He wouldn't- he _couldn't_ live his life as the Prophet's poster boy, but the prospect of handing little Potter off to Merlin-knows-who that Millicent Bagnold would anoint as his replacement... well the possibilities brought bile into his mouth.

"You just drop that infernal paperwork on a table and be on yer way, Mulready. Ye've got until I can find my wand-"

The little rat-face smacked the folder onto a rolling tray and spun away to leave. He stopped at the door and gave Alastor a cruel look.

"I believe young Master Potter has yet to be weaned, Senior Auror Moody. You may wish to hire a wetnurse. I have a list of trustworthy candidates..."

The solicitor escaped just as Moody's flame whip carved a burn into the door frame.

The healer poked her head in, looking ready to berate him until she saw he was armed. "Where in the world did you hide _that_ one?"

"OUT!"

Once alone, Moody sighed.

"_Expecto Patronum_."

A wispy-white ghost of a dog appeared from his wand. Seeing nothing threatening, it pranced in a circle to face Moody, awaiting orders.

"Go to Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Message is: 'I'm to be Potter's guardian. This is a bad idea. Handle it!' You got that?"

The misty avatar barked and sped away through the window.

**[[[]]]**

When Alastor woke again, it was dark in his room. He immediately turned on his bed to face his visitor, his four-inch reserve backup wand glowing red at the tip.

The quiet but sure voice of Albus Dumbledore said, "Calm yourself, Alastor. After all, you did invite me."

"'Bout bloody time, Albus." Alastor pulled and shifted himself to a sitting position.

"Yes, well, I don't know if you've heard but a war just ended. Things have been a bit unruly, across the land."

"Yeah, and I'd like to know how you intend to handle this most recent bit of insanity."

"I don't see it as insane, though perhaps ill-advised, but you must admit- if James Potter wished to assure that his son would be protected, he could do much worse than the Ministry's most decorated-"

"And most-wounded-"

Albus smiled while nodding to redirect, "...and most-_enduring_ Auror as his reliable fall-back, particularly when his own friends seem to have fallen into such terrible straits as well."

"That's as may be, but I'm not the fathering type any more than you are, Mister Dumbledore. What d'you plan to do about this?"

"Well, as it turns out, I have an alternate arrangement already in place. I have sequestered the now famous Boy-Who-Lived with his muggle relatives; ones that have no interest in our world. If you'll provide your signed agreement, we can make this fostering permanent."

"This seems a bit too tidy, Albus. What're you playing at?"

"Alastor, I am arranging things as well as you could want."

"Exactly. Friends and comrades we may be, but you don't play a hand unless all the cards have meaning. Why're you so keen to see the boy raised away from me?"

"It's nothing against you, Alastor. I am not convinced that Voldemort is truly gone. Until I can be sure, Harry's relatives provide an unusual protection that should prevent any of the Dark Lord's followers from acting against the boy. If I'm right, Harry Potter may be the most important wizard in the world. Not for what he has done, but for what he may have yet to do."

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then he will be raised as well as any other muggle-born wizard, and that can hardly be a bad thing, in these times when muggle society develops so rapidly."

"Aye, I see the wisdom in it. Promise me one thing."

"What's that, Alastor?"

"Before that boy reaches his majority, I want a go at mentoring him. I'm not letting my responsibilities lie fallow- any son of mine, by witch or by writ, is going to know how to defend himself."

Albus smiled. "I promise that you will have your chance."

**[[[]]]**


	6. Of Dementors and Fiendfyre

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all related concepts are owned by someone who isn't me. I will never seek or accept money for the circulation of this work.

Chapter 6: Of Dementors and FiendFyre

**A bad play for Hermione**

* * *

><p>Harry, Hermione and Ron Apparated to a rocky cliffside by the coast.<p>

Hermione shivered in the cold wind, but the moment Ron moved towards her to offer a warming embrace, she cautioned, "Don't. I imagine things will get warm soon enough, thank you very much."

Ron's shoulders sagged.

Harry finished surveying the area- just rocks, heath, some briars and a cold wind, though he caught sight of a pair of chipmunks escaping into a pile of boulders the size of Hagrid's hut. He turned to face Hermione. "So, tell me about Fiendfyre."

"Well, we've seen it already. The Durmstrang wizard I spoke to, Erich, was the one that used it to finish off their arrival procession when they came for the Tournament. You saw it again when Dumbledore fought Vol-"

Ron coughed loudly.

"- fought with _our enemy_ in the Atrium of the Ministry," Hermione continued. "It's a difficult spell in many ways, not least because you can't speak the incantation, as you're busy transforming your breath into flames. Erich was very careful to blow only as strong as a low whistle, and even so his fire serpent grew to the size of a tree before he could stop it."

"How do you stop it?" Ron asked.

She turned to glare at him. "A competent wizard will maintain his concentration throughout the summoning and direction of the enchanted fire, giving it clear instructions to follow. Such a wizard might also have expected that I WAS GETTING TO THAT!"

Harry shrugged at Ron from behind Hermione. Ron nodded, causing her to twist back at Harry who had reverted to a look of attentive interest. Ron then shook his head to Harry and shrugged as well.

"What's going on between you two," Hermione demanded.

Harry said, "Nothing, Hermione. You just seem tense. How else can we stop the spell?"

"How did Dumbledore stop it? Didn't he use water?" asked Ron.

Harry reflected, "No. He... he seemed to... wrest control of it, turning it from a fire snake into just a conflagration, which he aimed back at Tom. That fire was disrupted by wind, but by that point Dumbledore had drawn the water from the fountain and wrapped it around Tom like a big marble."

All three thought quietly for a moment. Harry murmured, "It was like watching storms wrestle. It's mad to think that I could ever duel at that level."

Hermione huffed, "Well, that's the point, isn't it? Not one of us is going to be able to kill him. It'll take all of us, doing everything we can. And the only way that it'll mean anything is if it's permanent, so... let's see about taking away his immortality, shall we?"

Harry and Ron both stared at Hermione for a moment.

"What?" she fumed.

Harry smiled at her. "Ron's right- you really are attractive when you've got your crusader hat on."

"Inspiring, really," Ron agreed.

"Makes me want to buy you things."

Ron gave Harry a shove in the shoulder. "Oh, sure. Seduce her with money, where I can't compete. That hurts, mate."

"Well, I have to use something to offset your charm and... uh... muscles."

"Yeah, she likes being held, our Hermione."

Hermione blushed. Ron grinned.

"Shut it, you," Hermione grumbled, "both of you!"

Harry pulled out the locket and laid it at the center of a flat rock. A whisper in Parseltongue and it opened, allowing the trapped dementor loose. It burst forth in a fountain of black smoke and shrieking, along with the muffled yell from Voldemort's soul fragment, stuck deep in the dementor's gullet.

Harry leaned back and yelled, "Oi! BOB!"

The dementor twisted to face him with arms held high, but then sagged as he recognized Harry. Bob's deathly chill abated.

"Yeah. Good morning and all that. Look, we're going to try to kill the locket, but I wanted to give you the chance to get free when we do. If it works, be a decent sort and don't try anything. I could just have easily skipped this step."

Ron added, "And if it does works, maybe you'll be able to swallow that soul finally!"

Hermione let out a squeak and said, "Ron, why are you encouraging him?"

"Well look at him- he's lookin' a bit peaky-" seeing his friends' looks of disbelief, Ron added, "I mean, he's shrunk. Could use some depression or a hearty soul to eat, ol' Bob."

'Bob' turned his cowl towards each wizard in turn, then raised a scabby hand in a clawed-thumbs-up gesture.

**[[]]**

To prepare, they set the locket to be pinned in front of two basalt boulders the size of cornerstones, with Bob's spiritual tether threaded through the fingerwidth gap to the other side. Harry had also anchored the rocks to the ground with a fusing transfiguration. Hopefully the arrangement would provide a kind of heat shield when Hermione's fire fiend was directed to consume the locket. Ron was standing a dozen yards off, ready with several water and ice spells in mind as a precaution.

Hermione crouched next to the boulders but aimed her wand away from everyone and off towards the cliffside nearby. She concentrated, and then gently blew across the tip of her wand. A barest candlewick's flame was all that showed, so Hermione continued to blow. Her breath was petering out after a minute or two and she paused to take another gulp of air.

Flames shot upward from her wand, a raging bonfire in midair that started to coalesce into the shape of a gerbil; albeit made of fire and the size of a small automobile.

Hermione fell back startled, but Harry's admonition to 'Keep concentrating!' wasn't required. She still held her wand in position and was then able to carefully shift into standing. The fiend sat in midair, preening its fiery head, the taper of its tail leading back to the tip of the wand that summoned it. The sound of the flames reminded Harry of a furnace at full burn, or the wind in his ears when accelerating full at the ground towards the snitch.

"Brilliant, Hermione!" said Ron. "Now see if you can shuffle it over towards the locket."

The witch stepped around to turn her wand towards the rocks; Bob's immediate reaction was a piercing wail, followed by scrabbling against the ground, trying to pull himself away from the conflagration being aimed towards him.

Harry yelled, "Bob, don't struggle! Hermione, be careful!"

"That would be easier if there wasn't so much screeching!" she yelled back.

Hermione still was concentrating enough that the fiend was attached just past the tip of her wand. She made several attempts to direct it towards the locket, but her results were about what you'd expect when trying to push the flames of a torch towards the ground.

"Harry, I can't seem to wrangle it! Did he make special gestures or wand movements?

The furnace-like noise of the now-serpent straining to escape the tip of Hermione's wand made hearing much else very difficult. Harry yelled, "What?"

"How did Voldemort control the spell in the Atrium?"

Ron cried out, "'Mione, shut up! What did I say about using You-Know-Who's name?"

Harry felt a shudder and looked up to the sky. Six black cloud-streams arced towards them from somewhere inland.

Hermione saw this as well and lost her concentration on the spell. The fiend broke loose and crawled away across the rocks in the shape of a giant niffler, sniffing the ashes of incinerated moss and heather as it went looking for prey.

The black meteors landed in a circle around Hermione, each forming into a black-robed wizard with wand at the ready.

Some confluence of forces had brought the din of the fire fiend, Bob's screeching and the de-wraithing of Death Eaters to a lull, leaving a quiet pause at just the moment when Hermione whispered, "Oh, fuck."

Ron swooped his wand in a horizontal arc, incanting, "_Glisseo_." Slick ice spread in a sheet across the rocks, covering a swath from Ron's position, beneath the Death Eaters and Hermione, stretching all the way to the cliffside. Hermione's feet were caught in the force of the applied spell, knocking her onto her arse with a yelp just as three spells shot over her head.

Seeing flashes of spellfire, the fiend reversed direction, catching the attention of half the Death Eaters who were feeling less confident about their chances than three seconds prior. They scrambled to catch a footing on the magic-slick ice, bolting towards the dubious protection of the nearby pile of boulders.

With a 'ping', the locket was finally dislodged from anchoring Bob in the crevice of fused basalt. The jewel flew through the air and then skidded across the ice past Hermione, dragging Bob's tatters along with it towards the cliff's edge.

Harry was trading spells with the trio of Death Eaters who hadn't run for cover. He spared a glance to check on Ron, only to see him sliding at a good clip across the ice on his belly, past Hermione, in pursuit of the locket. Hermione scrambled after him, as he was hurtling straight for the cliffs and a long drop to either rocks or churning seas. Harry's vision was then filled with the massive fire rabbit than had just leapt onto and consumed two of his opponents. It turned its infernal gaze towards him.

Sending a last hex at the only enemy not yet hiding behind the pile of boulders, Harry sprinted the other way, sliding down behind an outcropping right into a shallow ditch filled with spiny thistles. He bit his cheek to keep from yowling. He still could feel the heat of the Fyre-fiend, and caught the sound of someone Disapparating. With nothing around to provide cover, he cursed to himself.

_How do you hide in the middle of flat ground?_

**[[]]**

Hermione stumbled and slid and scrabbled across the ice, but she was far too slow. She saw, as Ron slid over the rise, that he had caught up with Bob and was bringing his wand into play. As he dropped over the cliff, she heard him call out, "_Accio locket!_"

She saw the locket arcing through the air over her head, Bob trailing behind, arms crossed in evident disgust over his situation. The locket landed and bounced several times, skittering to a stop near the pile of boulders. She was about to turn back to the cliff edge to see about Ron when she was distracted by the growing roar of flames. Hermione turned to see a hippopotamus made of flame charging towards her. Harry and the remaining Death Eaters were nowhere in sight.

The witch jumped to her feet and dashed away along the edge of the cliff. A quick look over her shoulder hastened her on, for the horse-shaped beast (which brought to mind the chariot of Helios in her multi-threaded mind) was gaining on her. She high-stepped and jumped and scrambled across the rocks. Finally she saw an opportunity- she leapt from a higher rock to a lower one and then crouched down; the horse leapt straight past her as she'd hoped, and Hermione bolted back towards the boulder pile.

The rhino of fire bellowed as it arced to adjust its charge to come after her. As she got close, she could see three Death Eaters all trying to wave her off from heading towards their hiding spot. One pulled his wand and almost cast a spell, but his fellow pushed aside the man's arm.

Hermione banked left to go around the rockpile clockwise, which would require the fiend to make an even tighter turn. As she dashed past a large protrusion, she felt a spell yanking her bodily into a crevice. A hand clamped over her mouth at the same time as she felt fabric slide over her head.

Harry held Hermione that way, pressed against the rock beneath his Invisibility cloak. He whispered in her ear, "Sometimes, Hermione, the most important tactic is to know when to stand quietly and do nothing."

The fire fiend stalked a few yards in front of them, now in the shape of a Chinese dragon.

They waited.

A few minutes later, the trio of Death Eaters evading the fiend were edging their way around the boulder pile, and passed in front of them. Harry held up the frost-covered locket. He whispered, "Oi, Bob. Dinnertime," then hissed _~open~_. He tossed it out to land behind the men, just as the aperture reopened.

The dementor burst forth with a chilling screech, catching the men by surprise. Before they could do anything but cry out, Bob snapped forward, grabbing the nearest enemy by the face. He pried the man's mouth open and made a deep inhale. The sound of a scream in a wind tunnel became their duet.

The two other Death Eaters bolted to get away from the Dementor, rushing headlong into the fiery maw of an Abyssal hound.

Their screams died off soon after.

Harry and Hermione poked their heads out from the crevice hiding them, still covered by the Cloak. They saw the Fiendfyre elk was facing down Bob, who was now back to his original enormous size (as Dementors go). Bob's chilling aura manifested as billows of fog edging across the ground toward his opponent, only to vaporize when stretched too close to its fiery form.

The fiend roared, and then charged at Bob, who glided backward just as fast, dragging the locket across the nearly frictionless ice. The elk became a bull and sped forward. Bob turned and raced away, heading towards the cliff's edge- a precipice that the fiend couldn't see from behind Bob's obscuring tatters.

At the cliff's edge, Bob leapt outward, the locket making one last bounce against a rock to tumble into the air.

The Infernal beast charged past the precipice and fell away. A moment later, they saw and heard the explosive gout of steam that continued for nearly a minute before tapering off. The fiend had evidently met its end in the crashing surf below.

Harry pulled the Cloak from over Hermione and himself, stepping forward from the pile of boulders.

Bob was floating at the cliffside, making a gesture pointing downwards.

Hermione ran towards the cliff near where Bob was floating. She tripped as she got close but continued her forward motion in a crawl up to the edge and looked over.

Ron was currently hanging by a rope partially bound around his body, the other end of which was tangled within a lonely hawthorn bush rooted to the cliff face a yard or two down. He was soaked to the skin. In his hand was the locket.

"Not a bad use of a Binding Hex, if I do say meself!"

"You absolute arse, Ronald Weasley!"

"Could you maybe rescue me first, then yell at me? I'm feeling a bit vulnerable."

Hermione's wand work yanked Ron up by his foot whilst banishing the ropes that constrained him. She levitated his body over to safe ground, then cut off her spell, letting him tumble onto some unburnt grass near where Harry had walked up to them, wand in hand.

They took a minute to check their wounds and share their perceptions of this battle. Ron's skin was red from scalding. "That steam might have broiled me alive, if'n Bob weren't right there, his chill protecting me from the temperature shift. I think the old spectre's startin' to like me."

Bob drew up next to Ron and patted him on the head once more.

Frost covered Ron's sweat-soaked brow. He shuddered out, "Ghe-heh-huh."

Harry's silent warming charm earned him a grateful smile from his friend, who then turned to Hermione and gave her a gloating look.

She glared back at Ron and spat, "Don't you think that just because you were useful just then that I don't still hate you!"

"Oh, right. Perish the thought," Ron said.

"Guys!" yelled Harry, "I'm just glad we're all alive. Be glad about that. This was a bad idea and I'm just relieved that we still are together and have the horcrux. Good job, Ron, Good job, Hermione, Good job, Bob."

The Dementor patted his tatters.

"For letting you feed? You're welcome. We should get out of here. Someone may be wondering what happened to this lot."

"Say, Hermione," prompted Ron, "what was that spell you used when we first escaped to Grimmauld- the one to show people?"

Hermione gave him a strange look and cast, "_Homenum Reveleo_." The spell triggered a twitch and Hermione snapped her gaze to a pinkish outline several yards away.

Ron turned and aimed his wand to follow her gaze, incanting "_Stupefy_!" The pink shape was struck hard by the red spell, and was forced by the impact over the cliffside.

"Ron! What have you done!? Whomever that was couldn't possibly-"

"I know! I want him to drown, or dash his head on the rocks. You only accounted for five; he was the sixth."

"But, Ron-"

"Hermione, leave it," said Harry. "If you're so concerned about it, maybe consider that none of them would have died if they hadn't come after us."

"Yeah, after _you _summoned them!" egged Ron.

"Ronald Weasley, none of us knew that would happen!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't act like you're always in the know!"

Harry bellowed, "Oh would you just fuck each other and spare me the noise?"

Ron and Hermione gaped at Harry.

"I don't like hearing people yell. It makes me think someone's going to hit me soon. If it makes you two hot, more power to you, but stop trying to include me in your fun."

He grabbed the locket from the ground, whispered _~close~_ to drag Bob back into storage and then disapparated.

Ron looked at Hermione, but she was staring at the ground. He gulped, then murmured, "He's a nutter, Harry. A bit perturbed after all this, I suppose."

"Yes. He's quite... oh, for- Ron I lo-"

"I love you."

Hermione gaped again. "You couldn't let me finish?"

"Didn't know if that's all you were going to say. You might've gone on until the sun went down, and I just want to kiss you."

Hermione took one look at his face; his scalded, smudged and vulnerable face, and decided that she needed to kiss him, too. She rushed into his open arms and kissed him.

**[[]]**

At Grimmauld place, Dobby appeared next to Harry and held out his hand.

"Really? That worked?"

"They's snogging when I looked," attested the elf.

"Damn." He shuffled in his pockets and handed Dobby his last Mars bar.

**[[[]]]**


End file.
